


"i can't do this anymore"

by HAILxHYDRA



Series: 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚢 - 𝐏. 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Crying, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29885241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HAILxHYDRA/pseuds/HAILxHYDRA
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚢 - 𝐏. 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197290
Kudos: 3





	"i can't do this anymore"

Peter walked slowly to his room. He just couldn't take it anymore. When life was _finally_ giving him a break, it all fell down again. He should've known that life just wasn't like that. He was never going to get a break.

He cracked open the door, looking at his bedroom. He hadn't been there for, if what everyone was saying was right, five years. And yet it was completely clean. His Iron Man bed sheets were perfectly made, his textbooks were stacked on his desk, along with the chemistry homework that was due that Friday. The tiles on the floor were sparkling clean, and Peter could see his reflection in them.

He looked weak. He had some dry blood trickling down the right side of his head, and his eyes were bloodshot, most likely from all the crying. His hair was messed up, and had a lot of dirt and other things in it that he did not want to know about. Parts of it fell onto his forehead, covering some of the bruises and cuts he had acquired during the battle. He had a long gash on the left side of his face, going from the side of his eye, all the way to his lips. They had a huge cut on them, and the blood had not stopped flowing. His cheeks were scarlet red, and his broken nose had not been fixed yet. His left arm was in a cast, although he didn't know if his arm was going to make it through all the things that were yet to come; he couldn't go Spidermanning if he didn't have an arm.

He opened the door a bit more, to see the window open. His beige curtains were blowing towards him because of all the wind outside. On the far right side of the room, he saw a picture of him and Tony. It was on the shelf, framed in a big picture frame.

The picture, he remembered, was taken a few years ago, after Tony had given him proof of the internship at Stark Industries. Tony had printed it so that they each got a copy. They were both holding bunny ears behind each other's heads, and each of them held the certificate with one hand. Peter was smiling so much that day that his cheeks hurt for weeks after they took the photo. They looked _so happy_. It was before everything happened. Before the battle on Titan. Before they all got blipped. Before Tony had snapped that stupid fucking gauntlet just to bring–

No.

_No._

He wasn't going to think about that. Contrary to popular belief, immersing oneself in a bad memory is the worst possible way to get over it. For Peter, at least, it just makes it worse. And then he blames himself.

It isn't his fault.

_It isn't his fault._

But it was, wasn't it? It _was_ his fault. Tony did all of this for him, not even knowing whether Peter was going to come back; whether Peter _wanted_ to come back. Tony had _died_ for Peter. He had died, and this time there wasn't a way to bring him back. He was dead. Actually, irrevocably, dead. Not just blipped, or unconscious - _dead_.

And that hit Peter. There was no way of getting him back this time. No snapping and getting everyone back. No way to talk to him again. No way to ask him for help again. No Tony telling Peter to be careful, or responsible, or to take a break from Spidermanning and do his homework.

And when his system digested that, it broke Peter. He fell onto his knees, crying. The stream of tears was actually overdue. He hadn't cried before the battle. He hadn't cried during the battle. He hadn't cried after the battle. All of that time, he was numb. Like he was watching a movie. Like it was happening to someone else, not him. Like he didn't feel the pain. Like it never even happened.

His sobs racked his body, and he was shaking. The grief became too much to bear.

He couldn't do this anymore.

_He couldn't do this anymore._

"I can't do this anymore!" he sobbed. No one heard him. _No one even fucking heard him._


End file.
